The Paladin in the Abyss

"Um, where exactly is this place you're speaking of?" Koula looked at Alamir with a skeptical gaze. "I may be a little short, but I definitely can't hide inside your robe."

"No, no, no, not inside my robe." Alamir laughed. "When I was praying to the Goddess just now, she gifted me a new spell—the Feign Death Technique. With this magic, you'll be able to stay inside the Dimensional Bag. Sir Lancelot, your Dimensional Bag should be able to fit my petite friend here, right?"

"No problem there," Lancelot asked with curiosity, "but are you sure this Feign Death Technique can keep her safely in the Dimensional Bag?" At the moment, his Dimensional Bag was mainly occupied by the Giant Sword Glacier and some gemstones, while his real wealth was actually inside his spiritual world.

"It should work." Kalalin, who was well-informed, spoke up. "I can cast that spell too. It makes the recipient's heartbeat and breathing stop, just like they are dead, lasting for one hour. During that time, her body will be indistinguishable from a corpse."

"Sounds pretty interesting," the Halfling said, eyes glinting with hope, but still a bit afraid. "What happens if the spell fails? It won't just kill me, will it?"

"Could you have a little faith in me?" the Elf Priest responded with a cry-laugh. "And I'm also a Priest, you know. If it fails, I have the Resurrection Art to bring you back to life." Stay updated through empire

"It must be within one minute of death," Kalalin added.

"Better make a decision fast," Lancelot prompted, "We've delayed for too long already."

"Alright, alright, go ahead, Elf," the Halfling closed her eyes. "I knew my life of adventure wouldn't end as a cook. Considering all the cakes you've eaten, don't screw this up."

Upon hearing this, the Elf Priest didn't delay any longer. He muttered a spell in a low voice, and soon a purple light gathered in his hands. Then, reaching out, he gently patted Koula on the shoulder.

The Halfling's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed straight down.

"Uh, she looks completely dead," Bruto said uncertainly, "Should we consider this a success?"n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Lancelot stepped forward, took Koula's hand, and extended his Divine Sense to check the Halfling's body.

At first glance, it did look like a corpse—frighteningly fresh, yet seemingly dead for a long time. From this perspective, it was an anomaly itself.

But as his Divine Sense scanned every inch, he discovered a powerful life force at the 'corpse's' heart, condensed into a tiny point by the mysterious magical power. If he hadn't been aware of the spell's effects beforehand, he definitely wouldn't have noticed it.

"It worked," he confirmed with a nod.

"Magic is truly terrifying," Bruto shrugged his shoulders. "Let it be known, no matter what the circumstances, never use this spell on me."

"Don't be so absolute," Kalalin shook his head. "The Feign Death Technique can temporarily halt any toxin and injury from taking effect. When we need to retreat and someone is severely injured, this spell can prevent the wounded from becoming a burden to the team. Would you still refuse it then?"

"It can be used that way?" Bruto looked astonished, reluctantly responding, "If things really got to that point, it wouldn't be impossible…"

"This is the proper use of magic," Kalalin said, shaking his head, "not like those fools who only know how to throw fireballs in any situation..."

While the two were discussing on the side, Lancelot did not stop working. A greenish sword aura shot out from his palm and began to cut through the shackles on Koula's ankles.

This was a divine skill he had acquired through cultivating the Qingyun Sword Art, which allowed him to release sword aura with his bare hands and, when combined with a weapon, could cover the entire blade to make it sharper. It could even extend beyond the tip of the blade to increase the attack range.

However, since he had only just begun to learn the Qingyun Sword Art, he could barely cover a great sword like the Giant Sword Glacier with sword aura. Extending the sword aura would require him to use Innate True Qi and could only last for a very short duration.

Under the cutting of the greenish sword aura, the iron shackles fell apart as easily as rotten wood.

Upon witnessing Lancelot's technique, the Elf Priest's eyes widened in astonishment, while Bruto and Kalalin were already used to such sights.

"Don't be surprised, it's just the power that comes from the Magician bloodline," Bruto shrugged nonchalantly, "My brother has many more tricks up his sleeve."

But Lancelot was not entirely satisfied. As the Qingyun Sword Art was a cultivation technique of the Wood Attribute, it seemed not very effective when cutting metal, and it might even be less effective than the Five Elements Attribute-less Gathering Qi Slash, which frustrated him a bit.

He was worrying too much, though; the Qingyun Sword Art, personally improved by the great Han Tianzun, was a top-tier cultivation technique that was only slightly suppressed when dealing with Metal Attribute materials. It was infinitely stronger than the Gathering Qi Slash, a technique almost everyone in the realm of cultivation could perform.

The current average power of the Art was purely because Lancelot had only cultivated it to the first level.

Furthermore, the Qingyun Sword Art had many wonderful uses; it was merely that Lancelot's current level was too low to have mastered them yet.

After cutting the shackles, Lancelot directly stuffed the 'corpse' of the Halfling into his Dimensional Bag. He glanced at the severed shackles and the large iron ball and took these items with him as well.

While the disappearance of the person might only confuse the Guards, if the cut instruments of punishment were left behind, even a fool like the two-headed Giant would realize there had been a prison break.

"All set," Lancelot said as he patted his hands and stood up, once again taking hold of Alamir's chains.

Just then, the ground shook even more violently than before, accompanied by muffled cries. Above them, they heard a series of hurried footsteps that changed everyone's expressions.

"Something must have gone wrong," Lancelot said urgently in a low voice, "we don't have time to delay."

"Follow me, we're almost at the resting room," Alamir pushed open another door, leading everyone quickly through it.

Behind the door was a staircase descending deeper into the Succubus Palace's underground.

After navigating the staircase, Lancelot and his group entered a small hall which seemed to be the resting room mentioned by the Elves. Long couches were placed around casually, food and drinks were on tables against the wall, and his Divine Sense alerted him to a special magic item placed on a pedestal in the center of the room—it was the object of their quest.

Lancelot quickly scanned the vicinity. In the hall, several male slaves wrapped in robes were looking up at the ceiling with uncertainty, seemingly frightened by the recent commotion. A few Berserk Demons, evidently the guards, were poised for battle.

Upon hearing someone enter, they all turned their gaze, but when they recognized that it was Alamir, they looked away, joining the slaves in watching the dust fall from the ceiling above.